My eldest one has developed a preference (almost counts as an acquired one, I like to think) for fantasy worlds and the Lego Ninjago line ticks the boxes. Far East cultures, or their generic equivalent as perceived by western laymen like me (however, a quick search reveals that some elements are specifically Japanese enough to warrant accusations of cultural appropriation), provide the backdrop of the line, and a cyberpunk ambience adds to its appeal. Think of ninjas with magical powers, an HQ on a flying contraption - mast ship, dragons, mechs, ragged gangs with guys sporting top hats and goggles, underwater quests, the list goes on and on. Spearheaded by a TV show (the canon proper, if you care about such things), since its inception some 10 years ago it has grown into an imperial franchise with all kinds of merchandise and, of course, many brick (an unlikely word for connotations) sets.
The fictional Ninjago City contrasts gleaming skyscrapers and neon signs with traditional canals, wooden panels and low-key stores (quite like landscapes such that of the Ghost in the Shell (1995) or similar “high tech, low life” settings, but in a kids friendly manner: Dark alleys, banners and figures with pointy hats yes, derelict human conditions, graphical gory stuff like cables stuck in heads no). So here we are, currently considering a set priced in the hundreds, which depicts a section of said city. Shops and passages are stacked in a layered manner (code word: modular building), in Asian tinted shapes. I checked a couple of product reviews (they are positive), and also found another option, from a more distinctly China - inspired line (Monkie Kid). Cost aside, these sets are intended for more senior children, so the game is still on.
In one of the reviews also lied a thread to something I totally ignored, something that would fit your urban dystopia every day: A now razed real world city, which at its peak scaled “modular” to new highs, so to speak. And it was located in the Far East, near Hong Kong. Kowloon Walled City, built initially as a fort. It ended up as a Chinese enclave in British territory in 1898. Its functions, residents and control varied, but, following WWII turbulence, people started flocking in. As the old fort foundations acted as national borders, there was no space for urban expansion, so the blocks sprawled skywards. Due to the peculiar legal status, no state power really oversaw the city.
Infographic: Life Inside The Kowloon Walled City
This lack of official authorities had implications for life there. The place became cramped as fuck, as there were no building or sanitation regulations, no permissions. Umbrellas were needed to avoid the constant dripping from wobbly pipelines, when crossing its alleys/ tunnels. Local rings pursued their noble interests, prostitution, gambling and drugs, and generally ruled the roost. Sounds like a hell pit, and in many ways it was, you archists. But somehow, the greater picture was more nuanced. It turns out, many of the denizens did not engage in criminal activities. Instead, displaying a resolve for survival, opted to form a tight, humane community. Schools and factories were set up, as were medical practices, all unlicensed of course. As Hong Kong police became more involved in the 60s and 70s, driving crime rates down, aspiring entrepreneurs took advantage of the no regulations/ no taxes frame, with some businesses actually thriving and even managing to export goods.
The Strange Saga of Kowloon Walled City
At some point in 1987, governments decided that this self-determined bastion of legal no-mans-land should go down. The last residents were evicted 30 years ago, on July 1992. It was demolished 2 years later, to be replaced by a park “in memoriam”.